Evie adjusted Daisy’s IV, recalculating dosage on instinct. She didn’t need Maggie to check her math. She didn’t need approval. Maggie trusted her—completely—in this moment.
“Respiratory’s on the way,” a nurse called.
Kara’s voice cut through the activity, thin and sharp with panic. “What’s happening? Why is everyone rushing?”
Evie turned toward her instinctively—then stopped.
She looked to Maggie.
Maggie met her gaze across the bed, something unspoken passing between them. Permission. Trust. A line crossed and held.
Evie stepped toward Kara, lowering her voice, grounding it. “Her body’s having a harder time keeping her blood pressure up. We’re supporting it.”
Kara shook her head, tears spilling over. “Is she dying?”
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Evie felt the familiar urge rise—to soften, to delay, to protect with vagueness. She felt Maggie’s presence behind her like a weight, not pressing, justthere.
Evie chose honesty.
“She’s still fighting,” Evie said. “And we’re still with her. That hasn’t changed.”
Kara clutched the edge of the bed, nodding shakily like she was holding herself together by force of will alone.
Behind Evie, Daisy groaned softly.
Evie was back at her side in an instant. “Hey,” she murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Maggie watched that—really watched it.
Not the competence. That was expected.
The way Evie stayedpresent. The way she didn’t rush away from the discomfort. The way she anchored herself in the mess instead of hovering above it.
“She’s responding,” Evie said after a moment. “Slowly.”
Maggie checked the monitor herself, eyes narrowing slightly. “Barely. But it’s something.”
Evie nodded. “We’ll take it.”
Their eyes met again.
This time, Maggie didn’t look away.
Her face was composed—controlled as ever—but there was something burning beneath it now. Not desire. Not anger.
Recognition.
Evie felt it like a current running straight through her chest.
This was why Maggie was afraid.
Because when they worked like this—when nothing was held back, when trust flowed freely—it wasn’t just effective.
It was intimate.
Too intimate to pretend it didn’t matter.
